Recently a friend tried to help me by suggesting I go “clubbing” I think I’ll pass.
Let’s take trip back in time to the disco era. It’s 1970 something. Polyester is king. Babysitting $$ spent at Lerner Shops in the Northgate Plaza. Flared high-waisted slacks, rust in color, and a button-down, skin-hugging long sleeved blouse in a garish pattern and I’m dressed for success. Add a pair of platform, a spritz of Love’s Baby Soft, slap on some Kissing Potion, and it’s Ladies’ Night, and the feeling’s right, oh yes it’s Ladies’ Night, oh what a night (oh what a night)
Burn Baby Burn (Disco Inferno) You can Ring My Bell – (ring my bell, ding dong ding dong) — That’s the Way (uh huh, uh huh) I LIKE It (uh huh, uh huh)
Guys with raging testosterone, even tighter fitting clothes, cheap cologne, solid gold Italian horn on a neck chain, driving a Corvette were everywhere, slinking around looking for a good time.
Again, I’ll pass.
Jump back in the time machine and it’s 2019 !!! WTH happened? 40 years have brought us into this Brave New World of technology. The Friday night phone call from your Mystery Date replaced by an impersonal and creepy “someone viewed your profile” on Match.com. Algorithms poorly imitate love at first sight.
And the beat goes on.
Welcome to the New Disco, the digital dance floor if you will. Now follow these steps:
- sort through dozens of sites marketed to the over 50 crowd
- find a free trial package and avoid the barrage of money-saving offers for a lifetime membership
- Invent a cute name
- Invent a cuter profile, complete with fascinating interests you never actually participate in.
- Download the cutest profile pic possible, carefully cropped, edited and retouched
- Wait approximately ten minutes for men at least 10 years older ( if they are not lying) than you to “like” your profile
- log off crying and go eat some ice cream.
Online dating, the quagmire of self doubt. fear, inadequacy for the aging, lonely, broken ex-disco queens. That’s another post, but it sure beats the “club scene”
At least pajamas and a cheap glass of wine are all that’s required to peruse this pathetic remnant of baby boomers.
No polyester allowed. Reading glasses and Aleve encouraged. Depends, dentures, pacemakers negotiable.